The Swap
by kimberlyboo3
Summary: Sherlock's death was faked but not by the detective himself. Jim Moriarty is a man far more dangerous than he may seem to be. After two years, when John Watson almost lost his faith, moved on and started a new life, it will appear that Sherlock Holmes is alive and has lost control over the situation. The game is on and this time John Watson will have to play it alone with Mary...
1. Prologue

- Neither mommy will help them, nor daddy will help them, and even your big brother won't save the situation. You need to commit a suicide. You need to fake your own death to protect their lives. Come on, one more step. It's nothing scary, only comprising in the eyes of the whole world for the lives of those who you care for most. This is the good price for such a value, isn't it? And you're not going to die actually, so what's wrong?

- Why not? Why don't simply kill me or make me jump of this roof to death? Who do you want to save me? Why am I supposed to fake my own death?

- It's illegal, so in the worst case, if you tricked me or escape, at least you'll have some trouble of a law nature, but as I'm in control of the situation and you have no predisposition to be an action hero with you funny brain and poor muscles, I might have some advantage of you and certainly much fun. Come on, they're waiting, the whole street is closed, John's almost here. Take your phone, call him. Tell him the story. And jump.

What happened next is too difficult to write about it. He did what he have to do, tears were dripping of his cheeks when he jumped. He landed on a giant inflatable pillow and before he even realised what happened a needle touched his body and drug put him unconscious. Moriarty's man take care of the whole show and when John got to the body he was pretty sure his friend is dead. Blood was all over the pavement, there was no pulse, no move. Just a memory. There were not much people on a funeral. Only his parents with Mycroft, John, Molly and Greg. Even Mrs Hudson couldn't be there. For the whole world, the media especially it's been a happening of a year, but for these few people it's been a tragedy. Only these few still kept believing, never lost faith that he was real, dead or alive, the great Sherlock Holmes, not an angel, but a liar.

Standing above his best friend's grave, John was thinking about all this what happened at that terrible day and why did he jump. What power could force Sherlock to commit a suicide? John didn't believe the 'fake' story even for a while, he simply knew that what happened was a necessity. He only wondered why. In that silence, when he was taking a while above his friend's grave, behind the cemetery trees two men was holding another one, tied and gagged and forcing him to look at Dr Watson, unable to say anything, to ask for help, hidden before John's eyes and watching him leaving with tears in the eyes, convinced that his best friend's dead, while in fact he was there, so close, needing him more than ever…


	2. New beginnings

John was sitting in the restaurant nervous like never before. He straightened his bow tie again, as he already did several times during the last five minutes. He took a short look at the watch again. It's been a minute after the time, that meant she could appear any moment. He put his hand into the pocket and started playing with a little box nervously. He was sweating, trying to keep calm. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, she was standing in front of him, smiling. He panicked, he quickly stood up and took his hand of his pocket still holding the box. Immediately he realised what happened and put it back again before he kissed her for hello. She was smiling to give him some courage, but she noticed the box. They had a dinner and chatted for a while when Mary noticed John's getting nervous again. He wanted…

- I think I need some air. Let's go to the park. Walking in the moonlight, wouldn't that be romantic? Call a waiter and leave this place, please.

John looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn't. He was mentally absent, completely terrified and breathing some fresh, cold air, was quite a relief for him. They sat in the park for a while in a silence, before he finally decided to kneel before her and take the box from a pocket. But her reaction was different from everything he was expecting.

- John, please, don't ask. you don't want that. I thought we're good friends, have fun. Why do we have to destroy that all now? Why did you do that? John, please, don't.

- You don't love me.

- I love you more than anybody on earth, but you don't love me. I'm not who you think I am. You wouldn't love me if you knew, so let's just end it like that, when our memories are still good.

Tears appeared in her eyes when she was saying that. John put the ring on a bench and sat next to Mary, hugging her. In the moonlight, with wet eyes, she looked amazing. He smiled. He knew that woman, he knew whatever it is, he can get through that. It might be difficult, but he couldn't just lost that woman.

- Mary, listen to me…

- Mary's not my name, John.

_Good Lord, that's not a bad start… _John took a deep breath. No matter what's her name, he loved her and she loved him, he have seen that. No matter what's that, they will be able to go through that, but together.

- John, this won't work. I changed identity because I tried to run from my previous life, I don't want to take you in this.

- Mary, listen carefully. I have only one question for you and I want you to answer now. I won't let you go, before you answer. Will you marry me?

Mary started to cry. It took a moment before she was able to speak again. She took a little memory stick from her handbag and started fiddling with that.

- Alright. Alright, if I have to answer, then I need to explain everything. No, John, the answer is no. I won't marry you, though I would love to. But you won't like to marry me. You won't love me and you won't feel save next to me. All my life I tried to escape is on this memory stick. I thought that it would be the easiest way, I wouldn't have to look at this, I wouldn't have to look how you stop to love me. How you cancel the question and… But I have to say that, right? I have to tell you all that face to face… What am I supposed to say? Where should I start?

- Mary. Start from the begging. I don't care about anything, but will you marry me.

- John, you never… I was working for CIA. I was an assassin. And a bit later I wasn't working for CIA. Got a bit freelancer. Yet never worked in black business. Never worked for any criminal. I know the rules of justice, and I'm not a baddie, but… I might have… they are some people who don't really like me. Do you still want to know more?

They sat in silence for a while that seemed ages for them. The sky was slowly getting lighter, sun started to climb higher. That kind of information needs time. John moved a bit closer to Mary and they sat hugged till the sun appeared full on the horizon and people started to enter the park.

- Mary… I'm still waiting for the answer.

Mary took a ring up from a bench and looked at it with delight in her eyes. It was beautiful, very simple, with a little diamond. She put in on her finger and smiled hugging her fiancé.

The memory stick ended up in a fireplace and the past burned. It's been a year till they engaged and everything seems to finally be alright. They bought a flat, started planning a wedding, even thinking a bit about a child. It's been two years from Sherlock's death also and this time John visited the grave with Mary. Everything was alright.

Mary put the kettle on. John already woke up and it was about to take a while till he gets up and goes down. Toasts jumped out of a toaster. Mary took a little jar with jam from the fridge and as the water just boiled, she made a coffee. She sat at the table and started her breakfast. Saturday. No work, no problems. What a beautiful day. Power LED in John's laptop kept flashing. He forgot to switch the PC off. Mary took the computer and opened it. The browser was opened too. You should have been more careful, John… The Inbox showed one new mail. At the moment she wondered to open it or not, John entered the kitchen.

- I see you didn't have much problem with the password.

- You don't exactly need Sherlock Holmes to break it. Oh… sorry. We decided not to talk about Sherlock. Sorry again. I'd better shut up. You've got mail, should I open it?

- Yeah, of course. That's just my inbox. There's nothing interesting you could find there.

John was making himself toasts and coffee and Mary opened the mail. Somebody called _old_friend_ didn't bother to leave any massage. There was only a video file with also mysterious name _remeber_two_years_. Mary opened the file. After a few second the media player opened and on the screen appeared a picture that stopped Mary from pressing play button. When John turned around with ready coffee to join Mary in the breakfast he saw fear on her face. He put the mug down and took a look at the screen too. Mary was still in shock and he pressed a play button. The video showed Sherlock Holmes, alive, but unconscious, bound, gagged and blindfolded, with signs of tortures. The blindfold had a writing _Find me. _


	3. Déjà vu

Lastrade was taking his coat off in the hall and trying to get some more information from John, when they heard the doorbell again. They looked at each other unsurely, having no idea, who to expect and after the next bell that sounded like the guest was getting irritated John finally opened the door. Mycroft entered the room, left the umbrella in the room and turned to the kitchen. Two surprised man followed him, wondering how could he be in London. In the kitchen, in front of the laptop, Mary was trying to get something from the video. When they entered she lifted her eyes from the keyboard.

"Oh look, Mycroft. His Majesty decided to join to us. But I thought you're in Moscow…"

"It's 21st century, we can fly Mach 9.6, 2.800 kilometres in an hour isn't that much problem."

"Surely not to you. But if you came here from Moscow, that means it has to be a matter of real importance. You didn't know your own little brother is alive, did you? Course you didn't. But a matter now. I tried so far to get as much as possible from what we have, but it's not much at all, one video, no massage, blocked email address. Of course, the email once blocked by one, can be unblocked by the other, but the account was already deleted. I managed to track the IP, not that easy, as they were sending from a device with a changeable one, but it took John around ten minutes to get Lastrade, so I had time. I phoned the internet café that owns the computer but they couldn't help us. Seems they don't really care who uses the computer as long as he pays, which was actually something, the gender of the mailer, but captors could have hired anybody, and the woman from the café couldn't even tell his hair colour, so I gave up, cause, bloody obviously, they don't use CCTV too. Later I will try to do something with the code, but they had to left us a clue if they want us to find him, so going through the video together one more time, will probably be more logical."

"Quite a good job. How did you know that?"

"CIA training. How didn't you know that?"

Mycroft looked at John's fiancée suspiciously and a bit impressed, he had to admit. How couldn't he know she was a CIA agent? A good one, it seemed. He noted in his mind palace, to research her later. Three man sat down now around Mary and focused on the video when she pressed play button. The video started in the dark room, with only one little source of light showing Sherlock, beaten, bound and gagged, with a blindfold saying 'Find me', and moved forward. The following few minutes were a recording, sort of a story of last two years. Right after the unconscious blindfolded Sherlock there was a jump from St. Bart's roof, and the next scene, the one on a cemetery. John closed his eyes for a moment, to find courage to watch it again. He still couldn't believe it, no matter how many times it was played. In the background there was Sherlock's grave and John standing above it. And just a few metres away, so close, there he was, his best friend, while John was crying above him dead, he was there alive, bound and gagged, but alive, conscious, held by his captors. He was trying to move, to somehow show John he's there, maybe ask for help, but his captors took care there's no interaction, forced him to just watch. And John now, after these two years felt so much pain, watching tears in Sherlock's eyes as his only friend leaving the cemetery sure he's dead. A captive forced to watch all he cared most burying him and trying to forget. Leaving. The rest of the video was more violent. They didn't take Sherlock to show him any of his friends anymore. Even if they blackmailed him, it was always through the screen. It wasn't an easy video. There was lots of blood, lots of tears. None of them ever have seen Sherlock like that. It was notable how he changed during these two years. Every next scene he looked worse. And every next scene he lost fight will. It was notable, at some point he lost count of days, weeks, months, and lost hope. At some point he gave up. The video ended with the blindfold shot again. It was a fresh recording. Sherlock looked terrible, he was unconscious. He probably had no idea the blindfold is a message. But they were coming for him. No matter what happens, they will find him. They watched the video three times, though it wasn't easy to watch, but they needed a clue. Yet even Mycroft, definitely the most observant one of them, very well conversant with the science of deduction, couldn't find anything, only it must have been far harder to him to watch Sherlock, seeing better than anyone all the injuries, and the fear, subtle signs of real terror in his little brother's eyes. The heavy silence was in the room, when they finished the video for the last time. They almost felt the pain that Sherlock had gone through these two years. They were terrified and sad, worried, but determined. In that hush, everybody almost jumped when Mary suddenly screamed in euphoria. She started zooming the video in and out, looking for something, but soon gave up and turned to Mycroft, just as the rest of them, not understanding a reason of her joyful reaction.

"I need a screen."

"A screen?"

Mycroft looked at her still trying to find a clue that made her so optimistic.

"Yes, a screen. Big one. You're a British government, it you an hour to get to London form a bloody Moscow, it shouldn't be much a problem for you to find a computer of TV of some good quality."

"Yeah… Yes, I think I can manage. What exactly do you need?"

" I'm not pretty sure myself, but the best not less than 70 inches. I don't accept a silly jigsaw of little screens, I need pixels, but I need quality. So lots, lots of pixels, good quality, as much shades of grey as they have."

"Shades of grey?"

"Oh, please, Mycroft, really? I mean a wide range of a colour shades displayed. I'm pretty sure leafing through your library must be entirely fascinating, but we need to get another Holmes out of captivity, so it's really not the time, not the place. Get me the screen. And you two stop looking at me like I was a ghost and do something!"

Lastrade turned back, trying to control his irritation, and focused on making coffee. The kettle was whistling, while John tried to gently calm his fiancée down.

"Mary, I appreciate your concern, and I am thoroughly grateful for your input, as I am as much or more worried. We need to find Sherlock, but you start to behave like him yourself. Whatever clue you have found…"

"It's the file John, the file…"

"Mary, slowly. In English, at least try to create full sentences, so we, the simple people who didn't work for either CIA, nor MI6, nor have an amazing power of deduction, could understand you. Whatever clue you have found, it's not that obvious for us, so please if bothered to explain…"

"John, it's the file! The file, we focused so much on the video itself, that we ignored the file… The file, John! It's enormous!"


End file.
